but i guess we'll never know
by rosekatxo
Summary: Dylan gets support from an unlikely source on the anniversary of Sam's death.


**A/N: so I haven't written anything in a year now (since Sam's death, actually) and this is nowhere near my best work, but I've had this idea in my head all weekend and I couldn't let it pass without writing something. It's v rushed and not perfect by any means, but if there's anyone else out there still missing Sam and Dylan as much as I am then I hope you enjoy :) If you do, please leave me a review or message me at samanthakeoghs on tumblr - it would mean so much to know that people out there liked it! xo**

The rain hammering hard against Dylan's bedroom window woke him abruptly from his slumber. Groaning, he squinted through the darkness at the clock by his bedside. 4:34am. Why was it that on the days he had to be up early, he could easily sleep for another eight hours, and yet when his shift pattern allowed him the rare luxury of a lie-in he practically turned into an insomniac? He'd been tossing and turning the little of the night he _had _slept for, his subconscious even more restless than usual. He sighed and slumped over onto his left side, willing himself to fall back asleep and get at least a few hours' rest before the day ahead, but as he closed his eyes, the realisation hit.

11th August. An ordinary date for most people, perhaps. But not for Dylan. No, it would never be a normal date again. It was the anniversary of his ex-wife's death.

A pang of something indistinguishable shot through his chest as he rolled onto his back, gulping heavily to suppress the unpleasant sensation. Of course he'd known this day was coming. While he pretended to the rest of the world like he'd moved on long ago, the truth was that not a day went by without Samantha Nicholls occupying his thoughts. He'd been stemming his dread of the upcoming date by overworking himself in order to stay busy – he could almost hear Sam tutting about _'destructive coping mechanisms'_, but she was one to talk – and largely, it had worked. And for one blissful moment, in his half-asleep state, Dylan had forgotten what today was.

But reality was never that kind.

The thunder cracked loudly as the room lit up, flashes of lightening illuminating the room almost eerily. Without a conscious thought, Dylan's arm reached out slightly to the other side of the bed, an instinctual reaction he'd long since tried to suppress. The coldness of the mattress under his palm was a stark contrast to the memory of the warmth of her slim body curled up against his, tangible despite the years that had passed since they'd last lain beside each other in this very bed.

Dylan laid there, listening to the wildness of the storm outside and absent-mindedly watching the intermittent illuminations, for longer than he'd care to admit. His mind was running wild with memories of Sam, nights they'd shared together and secrets they'd whispered, memories he'd never shared with anyone else and that he only acknowledged in the emptiness of the night, that usually faded away as a new day dawned.

He had a feeling, however, that wasn't going to be so easy to pretend today.

* * *

Dylan walked into the ED at quarter to eight on the dot. Despite how sadistic it may sound coming from an ED consultant, he was desperately hoping the day would be a busy one – more patients meant less time to dwell on the date in question, and more chance of the jumbled and frantic thoughts running through his mind temporarily quietening. He hadn't even made it to the staff room before his path was blocked by one Connie Beauchamp.

"Good morning Dr Keogh. How are you today?" she greeted him briskly.

"Marvellous," he replied sarcastically, assuming that she'd ask how he was feeling (not that he wanted anyone's pity).

"Well, that's good then. You're needed in resus as soon as possible."

Either Connie had chosen to ignore Dylan's sarcastic response, or she just hadn't noticed. He opened his mouth, ready to justify his being slightly more out of sorts today of all days, but something stopped him. He knew that Connie hadn't remembered Sam's anniversary. Not that he'd really expected her to – she and Sam hadn't really seen eye to eye in the few months they'd worked together, and they certainly weren't close – but he wasn't about to draw attention to himself and remind her of it if she didn't already know.

Deciding that keeping quiet – perhaps uncharacteristically so – was his best way of getting through the day, Dylan headed into the staff room. Connie had said he was needed straight away, but surely he'd have time to grab a quick coffee first? Swinging open the door, he came face to face with Charlie. The older nurse had always had a soft spot for Sam, so Dylan prepared himself for a barrage of well-meaning condolences.

"Morning Dylan," the older man smiled at him. "Looks like it's going to be a busy one today!"

With that he was gone, and Dylan grimaced inwardly. So, that was that. His wife's death had clearly slipped from the mind of the one person he'd though would be sure to remember her. Shaking his head, surprised at the pang of sorrow that once again shot through his chest at the thought of her being forgotten, he turned around and headed straight to resus. The sooner this shift was over, the better.

* * *

"Time of death, 5.38pm."

Dylan looked down at the young woman lying in front of him in despair. There'd been an RTC on the motorway due to the bad weather, and several patients had been admitted over the course of the day with varying levels of injury. The majority had been lucky to come away with only bruises and scrapes, but this particular patient had been adamant there was nothing wrong with her and had been about to be discharged; that is, until Dylan had noticed the colour slowly draining from her face and quickly raised the alarm.

And now here they were, two hours later, stood over her lifeless body. Internal bleeding, caused by the crash – that's what Connie had ultimately diagnosed. Ironic, really, Dylan thought to himself. Not only had they lost a patient, with the same symptoms Sam had been displaying, but it was just another reminder that he'd failed to follow up on his ex that fateful day when his instincts had told him something wasn't right. The same mantra that had haunted him for so many weeks after her death had been going around his head all day.

_You didn't save Sam. You should have saved her. Why didn't you save her?_

"Dylan."

Dylan blinked and Connie swam back into focus, the concern etched across her face matching that of Charlie's next to her. He had no idea how long he'd been stood there, gazing down at the body only to see Sam's in its place. "Dylan, there's nothing more we could have done."

It was this that caused Dylan to lose it.

"There's always something we could have done! I should have insisted she got checked out at the scene – I should have checked her over myself – I knew something was wrong but I did nothing about it – I could have saved her – I _should _have saved her!" All those months of pent-up anger seemed to spill out as he finally admitted the truth of his feelings.

The other members of staff in resus exchanged worried glances.

"Dylan," Connie spoke softly, trying to remain calm. She'd never seen him in such a state. "I promise you did everything you could for Helena. She wasn't showing any signs of internal bleeding beforehand, and you got her help as soon as it was apparent she was struggling. Please don't blame yourself."

"I'm not talking about Helena!" he exploded. "I meant _Sam_! I should have saved Sam!"

There was a stunned silence following his outburst. After a beat, Charlie stepped in and laid a hand on Dylan's shoulder.

"Dylan, what's this about? You know that wasn't your fault either. Sam's been gone for a long time now - do you really still feel that way?"

Ignoring his question, Dylan snatched his arm away. "Do any of you really know how long she's been gone for though? _No_. Because you don't care, and you never did. She deserved better than you. She deserved better than me too. But she's dead, so I guess it doesn't matter. But she deserved to be remembered." With that, he stormed out of resus, the doors swinging wildly behind him.

"What…?" Charlie frowned, turning to Connie who merely shrugged in confusion.

"Oh, come on." They turned around sharply, seemingly not having noticed the only other staff member still in the room.

Ruby.

"You're seriously telling me you don't know what today is?"

There was a split-second of confusion, before realisation dawned on Charlie's features.

"No… has it really been a year already?"

"I did 't even realise-" Connie started in shock, but her speech was cut short.

"A year ago today Sam died," Ruby stated in her usual blunt way. "Dylan's just watched a woman die from similar injuries on the anniversary of her death, and none of you even remembered the date. I know Iain did – he booked it off work because he couldn't face it – but I'd wager that I'm the only other person in this hospital who knows it was today. No wonder he's upset."

"Ruby-" Charlie was cut off again.

"No. I understand that everyone has busy lives, but don't you think Dylan would have liked some support today? You lost a colleague, a friend even. Was she really that unimportant that you don't even remember?" She chanced a brief look at her senior colleagues. Charlie looked suitably ashamed, and the clinical lead's eyes were glassy with tears.

"Look, don't punish Dylan for lashing out," Ruby continued. "He must have found today really hard, and I think he's been keeping all of that inside for a long time. I'm going to go and find him, make sure he's okay." She turned to leave, but Connie stopped her.

"Give him our apologies," she mumbled. "Please. And tell him we're here if he needs anything else."

Ruby nodded resignedly.

"I will."

* * *

"Aaaaahh!"

Ruby sprinted the last few paces towards the staff room, hearing an anguished cry that could only have come from the very person she was looking for. Glancing through the window to make sure it was safe to go in, she opened the door to find Dylan slumped against the lockers, a small dint visible on the one nearest to his right hand.

"Dylan?" she ventured, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Go away," he murmured gruffly.

Ruby shook her head. "Not until I know you're alright. I know we're not exactly the best of friends but… that can't have been easy today. And for the record, I thought you were brave standing up to Connie and Charlie like that." She took a deep breath. "I remembered too, you know. What today was, I mean."

The words seemed to have some kind of effect on Dylan, as he angled his body slightly towards her.

"Did you?" He sounded so desperate to hear her confirm it that it broke Ruby's heart.

"Of course I did. And so did Iain – that's why he's off today, although he didn't admit it. I've been remembering her the whole day, whether things could've been different… I miss working with her. I know it's not the same, but you're not the only one thinking of her today, Dylan."

The consultant blinked, and Ruby registered with a start that the only time she'd seen him look that emotional before was the night in question.

"I thought everyone had forgotten her," he exhaled shakily. "I know things move on, and people come and go, but it's only been a year and already it's like she never existed. And maybe that's my fault, because I don't talk about her, but only because it hurts too much. She was so brilliant, so talented at what she did. Sam was special. It breaks my heart to think that nobody round here remembers that, or cares enough to try."

"I do," Ruby nodded, moving to Dylan's side. "I care about her. I thought she was amazing, you know. Yeah, we clashed a bit at first, but I really felt like I was starting to get to know the real Sam and it was great. I learnt so much from her – not just paramedic stuff, but about life in general." She smiled gently to herself. "I've been trying, you know. To be a bit more Sam, when something scares me. I wish I could be as fearless as she was."

"Bloody reckless, more like. Did you know she once threw herself into the middle of a gas explosion just to make me sweat?"

Ruby giggled. Dylan seemed to be calming down now that she'd shown herself as a companion of sorts, and she was relieved – she might not know him all that well, but the blonde was aware of his struggles with mental health and hoped she could help him to deal with it all somehow.

"You still loved her, didn't you." It wasn't a question so much as a statement. The fight seemed to have drained out of Dylan, and he nodded.

"Yes."

It was rare for Dylan to ever admit his feelings to those he trusted, let alone a relative stranger. But something about Ruby's admittance that she too missed Sam convinced him to speak more openly than he had in weeks – months, even. He moved to lean heavily back onto the sofa, head in hands as the paramedic followed his lead.

"It's always been her. Despite everything. We were so far from the perfect couple right from the start, there were so many issues, but instead of working through them, we just gave up. When she came back this time… we both aired a few home truths, and she tried to reach out to me again, whether it was platonic or otherwise, I don't know. But I guess we'll never know now, because I shut her out like I always did. I just hope she knew-"

Dylan's voice cracked as he broke off. Ruby glanced at his forlorn figure, considering her options before deciding there was only thing for it.

"I think she did, Dylan. She really cared about you. You should have seen the relief on her face when she found out it was you coming to help that night." Dylan blushed slightly. "And you know what? I think she still loved you too. I know there's no way we'll ever know for sure-" - she gestured to stop the consultant as he opened his mouth to protest – "but I saw the way she looked at you. You meant a lot to her."

Dylan took a moment to process the blonde's words. "When we emptied out her locker," he spoke softly, "there was a ticket stub from Paris. Our honeymoon, in 2010. I never thought she'd have kept anything to remind her of our disaster of a marriage, but she did. We both spent so long pretending that we didn't care, but to know she cared enough to still hold onto that means a lot. I just wish we hadn't been so bloody stubborn. Maybe things would be different now."

"Maybe they would," Ruby agreed. "Maybe you could've finally had your happy ever after together, or maybe you two were never meant to be after all. Maybe you regret not telling her how you really felt when you had the chance. But it's too late for all of that now, and the last thing Sam would want is for you to spend the rest of your life moping around because you missed your chance. She'd want you to be happy, Dylan, I'm sure of it. If she really loved you – and I think she did – she'd just want to see you happy. And I know it's hard, but I think you owe it to her to at least try."

The corners of Dylan's mouth quirked slightly. "I suppose I do," he said. "She always did have a way of making me want to make her proud." Ruby laughed gently at this, and Dylan took the opportunity to reach out.

"Ruby – thank you," he looked down at the floor, slightly embarrassed. "For… you know. And for remembering her. I wish you'd had more time to get to know her. I think she'd have loved you – you're brilliant."

It was the blonde's turn to look bashful. "Oh, I don't know about that," she waved him off awkwardly. "But I wish I'd known her better too. She was an amazing woman."

"That she was," Dylan replied wistfully. The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, before the beeping of Ruby's pager disrupted the quietness.

"I better be off," she sighed, hauling herself to her feet. "Are you… will you be okay?"

"I think so," Dylan shrugged. "I'm just going to head home for an early night, I think. Didn't sleep much last night."

Ruby nodded. "That sounds good." She faltered, unsure of whether what she was about to say crossed some kind of boundary. "Listen, if you ever want to talk about her, you know where I am. I'd be honoured. Or if you just need company, you know…" she trailed off. "I wouldn't want you to be alone."

Dylan was genuinely touched; not often did anyone go out of their way to offer him support like this.

"Thank you," he smiled gently. "I'll bear that in mind." Ruby grinned, saying her goodbyes as she hurried to the ambulance bay.

Left alone with his thoughts again, Dylan sighed. The staff room was full of memories of his ex wife, the only woman he'd ever truly loved – the two of them sniping at each other across the counter, the shared silences following more near-death experiences than he'd like to remember, the coffees they'd instinctively still made each other on the rare mornings both were on the same shift, the shared doughnuts and casual conversations he could count on both hands over the few years they'd both been at Holby.

"Oh, Sam," he murmured to himself. "How I wish you were here right now." He chuckled. "I'd even let you call me Grumpy again, if it made you happy." Another silence followed. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I was so stupid. _We _were so stupid." Getting to his feet, Dylan headed to his locker. Rooting around in the pocket of his satchel, his hand enclosed around the tangible reminder of his ex wife that he'd carried with him every day for almost a year now. The ticket to Paris. Clasping it tightly, he rested his head against the cool metal locker.

"I'll try to make you proud, Samantha. I promise."


End file.
